When a heaven cracks and stars go to sleep
Morning so incredibly quiet -
A peaceful morning - the sun's rays meet my gaze
I listen to the peace - to its eternal rest - and I think
that this moment must forever be in my heart
My eyes filled with clear and clean blue sky
So beautiful quiet morning - a fjord bright as a mirror
. . . I'm missing my words
Happiness rustling through the blood
and awakens my senses
I float among the clouds and angels
picks diamonds like they were candy
The sun glows in all its glory
The words are no longer in my power
24.04.2014
A-L Andresen :)

Incessantly it trods and plods
perpetual the pendulum.
So long before the Abbey bells
tolled and told of hours passing,
before the ticks and tocks of clocks
or shadows told of solstice Gods,
no one to worship at its start
when first it leapt from fiery heart
and in its wake our petty worlds
grow and wither and grow again
until at last a violent end
as time forgets and races by.
The kindest heart, left drowned in tears
and wrapped in gross deformity,
yet sheltered by cathedral walls
in disrepair as much as he.
'Til Esmeralda's gentle hand
he knew no love, just hate and scorn
and like the brand from tempered flame
it's burning love that made him strong.
So like the edifice was he,
an ugly house that held God's love
and Quasimodo's lonely heart
who'd ring the bells that silence hears.
Then, in the end, he found her dead
and sacrificed his mortal life
to sleep with one who truly gave
the only love he'd ever known.
Craig Cornish Iambic Tetrameter
First posted September 5, 2014
Revised on November 14, 2014

What goes up must come down.
No colors can define who you are.
You may own a cart or limousine.
We'll still reach the end when it is near.
I may be poor today and eat from trash.
Tomorrow, you can't tell. I'll earn some cash.
The bed where you lie is soft and wide.
I sleep at a sidewalk and the stars are my lamp.
You wake up each morn' with a feast on your table
While we are scavenging to fill stomachs when we're able.
Our destiny isn't written in the stars.
We work for a living to thrive in this life.
Be thankful every morning you witness the sun
And pray tonight that no one lives same as I.
Wheels come in full circle,rolling round and round.
Today you'll be on top,
I am watching from the ground.
Let us bear in our minds that we are better than birds.
Our loving Father ensures each mouth is fed.
Not even the smallest details can pass by His eyes.
So plant a seed of kindness and reap a better life.
sponsor:FRANK H.
name of
contest: SHAKESPEARE
*5th Place winner

I never got to dance with Mary Jane
although I heard she sure knows how to swing!
She has a twin, and he is masculine;
he doesn’t have his sister’s magic powers,
her mystic way of calming people down
or bringing sweet relief for those in pain.
His tall and sturdy body has been used
for textiles, ropes, and oil. There’s so much more
that he could give us if we only would
allow the cultivation of his skills.
We might renew our plastics and we could
preserve our forests, for he is so good
when he replaces wood. Why is he shunned?
It’s simply for his ties with Mary Jane!
But why has she been banned across the globe?
She has abilities. Not psycho-active,
she helps the sick. Those undergoing chemo
can find relief with her; she’s antiemetic.
She’s anti many things that bring us woe.
Convulsions, inflammation, cancer and
depression are not all she fights against.
An anti-oxidant, she can relieve
disorders plaguing many on this earth.
They say she is the gateway to bad things,
yet she is safer than our cigarettes
that kill so many folks. I’ve never heard
that Mary Jane directly caused a death!
We let our people drink. Behind the wheel,
they drive and kill, yet those who take a drive
with Mary Jane are said to take things slow!
Of course she is misused by high school kids,
who should not dance with Mary Jane until
their brains are fully formed. Yes, she might cause
a temporary loss of memory,
but dancing with her should not be a crime.
We ought to focus on REAL criminals.
To lock her lovers up? A travesty!
Successful people cry for liberty
of Mary Jane. They’re smart and talented.
Jon Stewart, Andrew Sullivan, Phil Jackson,
and Angelie Jolie, to name a few.
Rush Limbaugh even needed Mary Jane
To get through all his shows (I threw that in
To show Republicans have loved her too,
Like Sarah Palin and George W!)
Ted Turner in his office dances with
sweet Mary Jane, and Michael Bloomberg is
quite proud to partner with her in a dance.
George Clooney is her advocate. He rocks!
And Morgan Freeman says he never will
give up “the ganja.” Neither will one guy
who danced with her since he was in his youth.
This guy, named Paul, has got by very well
with help from Mary Jane, his little friend!
Another famous man says Mary Jane
had helped him stay a human when in ‘Nam.
Maya Angelou danced “with abandon”
with her! Bill Gates, Rick Steve. . .the list goes on.
Who better to declare that she is safe
than Johnny Depp, who says that alcohol
is far more dangerous. I must agree
with Aniston, who said of Mary Jane:
“All things in moderation.” Anything
can be abused. The very food we eat
leads to obesity when it’s misused.
I’ve never had the pleasure of a dance
with Mary Jane, but I’ll be first in line
when she is legal. I’ll conclude with this:
Dear Martha Stewart, I heard you could bake
one mean green brownie. Where can I get one?
for the "Global Poetry" Poetry Contest of Debbie Guzzi

My hands and feet are numb
for I am cold and I have no
home to give me warmth.
A home and warmth are two
things I search for that is why
people call me a bum.
I have not eaten but I have
prayed and my prayers have
not yet been answer for I have
not eaten in days.
So I'll just lay in my place of
sleep and pray once more as I
search for warmth, for I have
found my home, The streets.

Opened like a morning leaf
exposed beneath the moon,
Resting in the tentacles
of a clouded ink coccoon.
Wringing hands now rest at peace-
the solitude of night,
a lantern in the wilderness
the miracle of flight.
Dancing on the tabletops
or falling from a swing,
is noticing the networking
of every living thing.
Observation is the art
that shows a single frame,
experience will turn to stone
the given and the gained.

The world is a heavy boulder,
both in bulk and severity...
We can lighten the burden -
it’s up to you, and up to me...
Let me be a beautiful balloon,
my string tied to the earth below.
Add each of you to help me pull us
upward and onward as our goal.
Each laugh, each smile of each day
makes the air grow fuller with love.
There may be sorrow below us,
but we can sigh and rise above...
Balloons, we can be, with our
strings tethered to a weary earth.
Rising skyward to a higher objective,
giving us each a new and brighter worth.

I press my hand on a montage
and dream about all Star War's plights
when words flit along zones, alive
and retrace memories enshrined.
On peaceful isle of your hammock
Bring me notes from an old guitar
That I may share euphoric thoughts
Embracing a geek in silence.
Past Tolkien's edge, a rite I bless
While on sweet trail, God's pentagram
lights optical dreams to refine,
This after-life’s soft artistry.
Pour down on me, my brother Chan,
and fire my breath with your warm torch;
for an archaic rhymer glides
To nurture joy, fresh on my mind.
Cyndi Mac Millan's A Word Collage For Chan Hurst
by nette onclaud

September, you are a wistful song
Summer sheds a tear when you come along
Sunny summer melodies yield to your mellow song
Its melody fades while yours grow strong
Summer ends and a certain sadness ensues
Sunny days make way for winter blues
September gives us glimpses of summer
Though days be short and golden leaves slumber
The vibrant colors September brings
disguise the coming winter sting
As summer dies it makes one last sunny stand
But will return, for thats how it was planned
Until then we must endure a harsh season
All bundled up, keeping warm is the reason
When the first snow falls
The pristine beauty leaves us enthralled
Soon summer will begin anew
Gray clouds make way for skies of blue
We awaken from our winter slumber
And welcome the butterflies of summer
For Joanne Grisetti's Copy Cat contest
:Inspired by the poem: September
Which was written by: Andrea Dietrich

The silence is a raucous circus spent
in incoherent dreams that fly from thought
to painful thought, no rest for weary wings.
Like frantic moths still searching for the moon,
they circle lights from porch to empty porch
and then ... to only wake alone again.
Your memory drifts so slowly in the breeze
that lifts the curtain's fingers touching me
as if to whisper and to calm a soul
in search of peace that only you can bring,
with Faith that you will be there in the end.
written Nov. 2, 2014

I want to skinny dip in pools of your eyes
And dry myself on lashes bordering there
I want to slide on lush plush of your lips
Then fall asleep on pillowed warmth of cheek
I want to reach the hollow of your chest
And camp above the rumbling of your heart
I want to flirt with fingers of your hand
Then cloistered be, wrapped safe inside your palm
I want to enter world of waiting mouth
Explore and ride the wet waves of your tongue
I want to dance along what makes you man
And tease and please and swirl around and round
I want to course through rapids of your veins
And then set fire to sanctum of your heart
I want to glide and dip in every breath
And sail the glorious sea of dreams and thoughts
I want all this and then I want much more,
For, darling, you're the one whom I adore
Eileen Manassian

Her Red coloured dress resembled
a Venetian house
which lay besides the gondola
in an unrealized dream
as the Gondola retreated
through the hazy eyes of the canal
the house kept on getting bigger
painting one part of the lake
with a mixed coating of
the red
and the green accumulated piece
of the ubiquitous waters
but still red was the colour
green was the envy
she was herself
with the poets
while a poet
let one more dream die

Ever wrote a sequel
To a poem about
The road of dead bodies
that you drove upon?
I dont Think So^^
O. Yeah im laughing
At such a radical idea
Thats not registerd yet
Into naiive-Like brain cells
Yeah! Am laughing^^
Wish I could just throw
My smile on that kid
That lay stone cold
Hand over ears even in death
Died of the noises...
Not laughing anymore?
Thought so
I just laid there staring
Right ontop of him
Dead silence...
I panicked
shoved my fist in his jaw
I felt his bone crunch
Now he doesnt have a screaming face
Wow....
You think thats deep?
The guy right next to the kid
Was his dad
They kept him alive to watch
As his son burned
then became death
and soon a fossil
And when they chunk this place again
He will be dust
...His father
He was right there
...To watch
Now read those last three lines
Again
In Slow Mo
Read it and weep
Maybe the tears could drown
A father who is still there to watch
And spare him of the "Madness"
"Well,if its what you want to call it.
I mean you can call it unfair
Inhumane
Insane
But its just Mad-ness"

She says, you can tell America
from the rest of the world
by the color of the wallpaper,
or lack thereof.
That southern hospitality is refreshing
after so many years in London.
The stuffed animal in her grasp
is named ‘Dog’.
When asked why she says,
"are you blind, it is a dog after all."
When the aide handed her a night gown
she asked if it was for sale.
He told her it was a gift,
but she could not accept it.
However, if he wanted to lend it to her
that would be “lovely”.
The aide was actually a woman.
When we told her so she replied,
“Well, she was a man
when he gave me the gown.”
We laughed and she said, “Oh lovely then”
and laughed with us
while clapping her hands.
I can’t tell you how old she is;
anything beyond 80 will do.
I can’t tell you how crazy she is.
I imagine more than a little.
Needless to say,
I liked her immediately.

In mid-June's heat, we wait inside the bus,
and everyone has said their last goodbyes.
The Moorish boy I’ve come to know is sad.
He says he knows I never will return.
The bus pulls out (his face just fades away).
We pass through streets that now seem not the same
as those that we first rode down when we came
here six short months ago. It seemed so strange!
Madrid, my first impression of you was
how everything seemed dingy and so grey.
But staying here, I found your treasures, and
enjoyed your many charms that I unearthed.
I’ve walked among your people, tasted foods:
paella, soups and pastries and much more.
I’ve visited Retiro Park, seen art
in sculptures on your streets and in museums.
I’ve visited your shops, your restaurants
where dancers of flamenco hypnotize,
your ring for fighting bulls, your theaters;
your streets seem now familiar, almost sweet!
And now we leave to catch that big bird home.
I do not know my future; I feel glum.
The group I came with, now like family,
seem happy as they chat excitedly.
They’re speaking of their families back home
and what they’re going to do back in the States.
But I alone am missing you, Madrid,
before I even board that giant bird.
For Deb's Somewhere Over the Rainbow Contest
(the way I remember my last day in Madrid in '74)

Mired in the daily grind
Our backs bend
in quiet desperation.
Shadows scream
And memories weep,
Horrified of lost dreams
From quieter times:
Times more peaceful;
The tender fascination
Of sun warming skin,
The tactile pleasure of
Rubbing palms on carpet,
The bliss inherent
In running on a playground.
Dreams from yesteryear
Fade from our view
Left behind, like
Some misbegotten notion
Of an enthralled child
From the old days
Of supposed immaturity.
Maturity gained,
But at what cost?
Loss of innocence
And dreams of grandeur?
Are these the qualities
Of someone unworthy
To guide us in return?

Gods power and might is both fierce and frightening
Like action follows thought and thunder follows lightning
Through raging bulls and triggers pulled
Weak ones fall and fools get fooled
Rising up like the sun now the prophets all play
I call upon the lord
I'm bringing God to the game
Ruthless rulers bring serpent stings
Waging black death wars upon wicked wings
Sending barbaric beasts to bloody battlefields
Where fears turn to fire and fates get sealed
With blood on their boots and bullets in their brains
I call upon the lord
I'm bringing God to the game
From thrones of terror their tyranny thrives
Their madness it grows and it multiplies
Those dragons of destruction...they do the devils deal
Making the wrong seem right
Making the false seem real
Feasting on fear they burn and they bake
I call upon the lord
I'm bringing God to the game
Like gladiators and giant slayers
Smashing and slashing those hellions and haters
For to live is Christ and to die is gain
I call upon the lord
I'm bringing God to the game

As droplets freeze half-breathed
From the mouth of Winter
Howling winds, foreboding
Bring gloom to pale landscape
Yet the Ice Enchantress
Conjures sultriness:
Fluttering tree lashes
Snow-covered ample breast
Her crystal lips invite
She burns despite the chill
And dares adventurers
To succumb to her will
Despite the threat of death
It's futile to resist
The cool invitation
Which glistens from her eyes
As she entrances those
Who cannot look away
But step so willingly
Into a blissful fate
First place in Constance La France's "Let it Snow" contest

May the sun always shine in your heart - melt away winter's ice
Always look for beautiful colors - even if you never find the rainbow
Nobody wants to experience the towering and storm high waves
Adversity makes us strong - like sailing on the sea in storm
Open up your heart - take a deep breath
Dreams you will find among the stars - where peace prevails
Let your thoughts dance between the clouds - without a worry in mind
Bring your paint brush - paint the world in stunning colors
Our world is so endlessly large
A human so little, a love so great
30.12.2013
A-L Andresen :)

WHERE THE CITY FOLK LIVE
At the confluence of the cultures
Where the politics ebb and flow
The tide of humanity crashes
Against their collective soul
The spires of religions
And posters of beliefs
Crush against each other
Through the weave of city streets
Registered colours of commerce
And trade mark tags of youth
Line the valleys of glass and steel
On floor, and wall, and roof
The constant clangs of progress
Idle growls of restricted motion
Drift across the green spaces
Invading every moment
The scent of communal sweat
Wafts upon the breeze
From the fires of exotic dishes
And the fumes of commercial needs
Feel free to swim the city
Frolic in the human flow
But be aware of the waves that break
Against your precious soul

This ain't my first rodeo, so knowing the score more than four
I declare in this manure-flinging system of elected despotism
we ain't got no permanent friends, just permanent interests.
America's a dazzling chupacabra of a conceit
conceived in liberty and dedicated to the proposition
that shades of equality increase the gross market share.
We supplant the visible etchings of the colonial lash
with the invisible ones of debt by procuring more *****we don't need.
Breathless canaries in a cultural coal-mine,
fascicled to Breaking Bad, Mad Men and the Simpsons,
shackled to Amazon 's 'Customers Who Bought This Item Also Bought'
we're driven out toward the oceans beneath Europa's baker's sugar crust
where freedom exists on a mono-cellular level
but knowing we 're not alone doesn't amount to manure
cuz they ain't Christian microbes so they ain't gonna be no use to us.
Like wind before the thunder the supple susurrus of my heart
sends frissons of pleasure jolting though my *****
bloated to such Brobdingnagian dimensions
as to feel at home in the hallowed aisles of Costco or Sam's Club.
Our finger wagging Uncle has overstayed his welcome,
So **** your tired, your poor -
you're taking away jobs from real Americans.
**** your huddled masses yearning to breathe free -
your emergency room doctor visits are costing taxpayers $2286 a pop.
**** the wretched refuse of your teeming shore -
we already have enough garbage to fill our landfills
Just gimme my VIZIO 80” Razor LED™ 3D Smart TV for my eye candy
Gimme my Google Nexus 8 cell phone cuz Steve Jobs can suck my dick
Gimme my Fidelio X1 headphones so I don't miss the subtle nuances in Willie Nelson's
Gimme my Nestlé Crunch Girl Scout candy bars for my sweet tooth and latent pedophilia
Gimme my Dial Triple Moisture Body cuz my balls got a stank like 3 day old crawdads
Gimme my Quilted Northern Ultra Plush toilet tissue cuz my ass needs TLC and backdoor action
Gimme my Fruit Smoothie Shakers so I don't have to get gouged by some turban mofo at Jamba Juice
Gimme my Gillette Fusion ProGlide Power Razor so I don't look like Jesus-F-Christ or a sandnigger
Gimme my Lash Factor Eyelash Conditioner cuz flirtatious love winks should be unconditional
America's soul is shrinking and vanishing like glaciers.
Grackles ebonize the sky where once proud eagles soared.
With God's help, America will rise again like the body of Christ after a good whooping!
Come on y'all - don't let my patriotic rant spoil a perfectly good Klan rally.

A strong drink sits idle in my glass. Two doves sit on the porch and watch me. They warble with great enthusiasm, puffy sirens of the hills. Their language hides the meaning of their words, like the elegant attire worn by common folk. They have everything they need, each other and a nest. A perfect wordless marriage. Communication only through song, and songs for all of nature to enjoy. The grandest love story ever told.
https://twitter.com/gregevansauthor
http://instagram.com/gregevansauthor/
https://www.facebook.com/gregevanswriter